Please Come Home
by Lawi01
Summary: The Mother Dragon was defeated, but Hiccup still had to get back to Berk. How would Astrid feel about her new friend's injury? How would Stoick face the possibility of his son's death? How would Toothless react? Very very very slightly AU. T for safety.
1. Astrid

**A/N: Hello! Sorry for the complete lack of update on ANYTHING as of late- I have mass writer's block BUT I have at least started the new chapters for all my current projects… So I guess that counts for something :s Until then I have recently rediscovered my sheer love for this movie and I just had to write something so HERE WE ARE. I've labelled it 'very very very slightly AU' because the ships are still in full working order and I have changed the roll of events in the first scene so that my story fits. In other words, the first scene is my version of how things happened.**

**I've tried to capture what I think are the three most important relationships in **_**How To Train Your Dragon- **_**Hiccup and Astrid, Hiccup and Stoick and Hiccup and Toothless. I was going to put it all together in one but this chapter is eight pages alone so I'll just do them separately. Please let me know how I did! Also, I know that logically Toothless wouldn't know any English whatsoever, so when it gets to his POV it's essentially an English translation of what I believe his thoughts would have been.**

**With that all said, please enjoy!**

Astrid knew something was wrong the moment she saw Hiccup's battered face. There was something about the way he rolled out of Toothless' protective cocoon, something about the grim way with which his big green eyes surveyed the gathering crowd that seemed distinctly off. Shoving her way impatiently to the front, Astrid's blue eyes darted around, trying to find a cause for the foreboding she felt building in her stomach…

All at once, a gasp rippled through the crowd. Astrid's fat blonde plait swung around at the back of her head as she looked around wildly, praying in her heart that the others hadn't seen anything wrong with Hiccup, even though she knew, deep down, that they had.

Gobber appeared near Astrid. His scarred face lit up. "You got him!" he cried joyfully, metal leg clanging in the pebbles as he jumped. Then his little eyes looked again and he paused, face falling. "Well. Most of him."

Most of him? What does he _mean, _most of him? Astrid scanned Hiccup's body but she couldn't… couldn't see…

Astrid stumbled back, a lead ball dropping in her stomach. Her eyes widened and she stared at Toothless' wing in horror. All too quickly the reason Hiccup's descent had been so slick and smooth became abundantly clear.

Toothless' wing was coated with blood. Blood that flowed in alarmingly large amounts from Hiccup.

Somewhere to her left, Astrid could hear Fishlegs panicking and Ruffnut elbowing Tuffnut sharply in the ribs for saying something about Hiccup dying. She heard Snotlout very slowly, very quietly take his helmet from his head and press it against his head, eyes closed and head bower. Astrid stared at him blankly, mouth struggling to find the words that she needed. All around her, men and women followed suit, falling respectfully silent and taking their helmets from their heads. Astrid look around helplessly, completely lost for words. She had to stop this, she had to do something. Surely Hiccup couldn't be dead, not now, not after everything he had done…

"That's enough." The crowd parted to allow Stoick's massive bulk through. His beady eyes swallowed the scene before him without reaction; he strode forward towards his bleeding son with the indifferent purpose that won him the title of chief. "We need to get him back to Berk."

Astrid's heart soared with hope. Surely the elder would be able to help him? Once he was flown back to Burk, everything would be fine-

Stoick fell to his knees and scooped Hiccup up in his bulging arms. Kneeling next to Toothless' head, they locked eyes for a long moment. Something must have been communicated then because, apparently grudgingly satisfied that his friend was in capable hands, Toothless let his head fall back into the pebbles with a resigned dragon-moan. Stoick straightened and marched into the mist, back towards the ships.

Astrid's senses swarmed back in a rush, and as she jerkily stumbled across the pebbles after Stoick it was like lurching out of a dream. "Wait!" she called, and Stoick stopped and turned. As he moved, Hiccup's limp head lolled uselessly at his father's shoulder. Stoick's arm was covered in blood… And as Hiccup's leg dangled, Astrid finally figured out what was wrong.

He had lost a leg. Hiccup only had one leg.

Astrid's head swam and suddenly she felt awfully light… _No_. She wouldn't break down. She was a Viking. She couldn't fall, not now. Not when Hiccup needed her the most.

Stoick peered down at her concernedly, apparently ignorant of his son's fragile condition. "Yes?"

Astrid came back to earth with a jolt and looked into the chief's eyes desperately. If she looked very hard, she could just make out the faintest flickers of fear and conflict. On the outside, however, her remained as hard as rock, and just as impenetrable.

Astrid forced her mouth to work, avoiding eye contact with Hiccup's bleeding stump carefully. "Wouldn't it be quicker to fly him home?"

She had to bite her tongue to keep herself from falling into pathetic hysterics.

Stoick shook his head; Astrid's heart dropped dramatically. "It's too risky," he said heavily. "There are bandages on board the ship. He will be more comfortable on board than on a dragon."

It was the first time Astrid had heard the chief say 'dragon' without spitting it out like a rotten egg.

Stoick turned back to Toothless, who was lumbering towards them with a tentative, murmuring crowd at his heels. He stopped just behind Astrid, glaring at Stoick as he pushed his head closer to hers. Stoick looked at him blankly. "We need your navigation to get back to Berk," he said. Astrid was sure she could hear a pleading undertone in his stony voice. "This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for me and I know I treated you- both of you- unfairly but please do this. For Hiccup."

Toothless pretended to hesitate, but Astrid knew his mind had been made up a long time ago. As he limped after Stoick (who was already trudging back into the mist) he turned and the stony expression carved into the black scales of his face slipped for a moment. His big green eyes gazed pleadingly over his shoulder, begging for answers, begging to know why his best friend was being taken away with only blood splashing down on the grey pebbles to mark where he was going. Astrid forced an encouraging smile and felt her heart be torn from her chest as the dragon reluctantly turned away, head low and steps heavy with the air of one who had been let down by a friend. Astrid watched the confused dragon until he had disappeared after Stoick in the mist, following his injured friend's bloody path with a lack of purpose that made Astrid want to throw a rock at him, if only to get a response from the poor, poor beast. As if through a dream, Astrid felt the crowd of Vikings brush past her and move back to the ship. She watched them disappear into the mist numbly, brain struggling to make sense of everything. Surely… No. It just wasn't possible. Hiccup couldn't have… Not after everything he had been through… Everything he had done… He had saved so many lives, shown a bravery Astrid wouldn't have expected to see from him, and what had he gotten in return? _Nothing_. Absolutely _nothing_. What had he done to deserve it? Astrid had spent her entire life making fun of him, but she never _hated _him. He had never done anything necessarily _wrong_. He had put his life on the line trying to help a strange unknown dragon who couldn't fly simply out of the goodness of his heart. All he had ever tried to _do _was help people. He had been the most amazing friend to a complete stranger and he had lost a leg. He _lost a leg. _It was so unfair…

A hand on her shoulder jerked Astrid back to her senses. She turned and saw Ruffnut, face arranged in a rare expression of gentleness and pity. Tuffnut, Snotlout and Fishlegs stood behind her, dragons at their heels.

In a rush, Astrid realized what she wanted to do. "Ruffnut…" She didn't even know what to say. She glanced helplessly between the ship and Ruffnut's long face, mouth swinging uselessly open and voice refusing to function, but eventually the blonde Viking's hand slid away and she nodded.

"I'll fly your dragon home," she said with a small, understanding nod.

Astrid smiled fleetingly as she stumbled across the pebbles. "Thank you!" she called over her shoulder as she pelted down the beach and back towards the ship- towards Hiccup.

The last few Vikings were hauling their bruised, battered bodies aboard, muttering darkly about Hiccup's fate when Astrid shoved past them. She ignored their whispers and avoided all prying eyes as she scanned the deck for Hiccup's frail body, or Toothless' swinging tail, or Stoick's bushy red hair… _There_! He stood at the centre of the group, counting heads and apparently oblivious to the blood staining his hands and arms. Toothless crouched behind him, either growling at anyone who came to close to his best friend or scanning and sniffing Hiccup's dirty face confusedly, like he was begging him to wake up and give up on this horrible joke. Astrid burrowed through the crowd and made her way to the front. Toothless blinked, but otherwise didn't react to her sudden arrival.

"Who's going to take care of Hiccup?" Stoick asked of the crowd.

"I will," Astrid said instantly. Stoick looked around confusedly for a moment before his eyes found hers.

"Astrid?" His bushy brows furrowed. "What're you doing here?"

"I'll take care of Hiccup," she repeated as evenly as she could, trying not to let her eyes wander to Hiccup's shredded, bloody stump or Toothless' helplessly confused face.

Stoick seemed to come back to his senses; he nodded sharply, turned on one heel and marched below the deck. With a strangled roar Toohless lunged after him but Gobber grabbed his neck and held him back. The dragon's head whipped around and he growled at the blacksmith, who as per usual showed no fear; Astrid lurched forward and lay a hand on Toothless' scaly neck, a hand that seemed so small and helplessly lost when laid against his hard, black hide. His head turned back and he looked at Astrid with that same pleading expression.

"You need to stay up here to navigate us back home," Astrid explained as soothingly as she could. "I'll keep an eye on Hiccup, I'll let you know if…" Astrid couldn't bring herself to finish with 'something goes wrong'. "If anything happens."

Toothless held her gaze for a few moments longer before resignedly turning away with that same, let-down heaviness in his stride as he followed Gobber.

Astrid didn't look back as she hurtled below decks. In a small, candle-lit cabin Stoick watched grimly as a medicine woman of some sort wrapped Hiccup's stump (now raised on an improvised pile of crates) in white bandages. She poured strange-smelling liquids down his throat and scattered herbs and murmured prayers before straightening and looking Stoick in the eye. Astrid noticed that despite his stony demeanour the legendary chief's shoulders sagged with the same heavy despair that seemed to follow Toothless around wherever he went.

"I've done all that I can," she said shortly. "The sooner we get back to Berk, the better. There are no bandages left and I don't have the resources I need here. We need to make good speed."

And with that she left. Hiccup lay quite still on a thin mattress, waxy skin illuminated by the flickering glow of candles. Astrid stepped tentatively closer; as her foot came down on the creaky wooden board Stoick seemed to awaken from a dream. Sparing only the briefest of glances for Astrid he turned on one heel and marched back upstairs, Brushing past Astrid as if she were a ghost.

Astrid watched him go, jaw swinging agape. His only son could well be facing his last moments and he was just running away! It had been drilled intoher head since birth: _a good Viking never runs away. _And here she witnessed Stoick the Vast, the great chief, the man rumoured to have popped a dragon's head off with his baby shoulders, doing just that- running away. Hiding. Astrid knew Hiccup and Stoick's relationship had been less than stellar, but she would have at least expected…

But she couldn't afford to think about that. She was here to take care of Hiccup, not his family problems. She crouched down uncertainly a few feet away from the bed. She could see now that he hadn't lost his entire leg, thank Odin. Only from the knee down. How would he react when he woke up? How would he walk? How would he fly Toothless? Even if the entire village argued against it, Astrid knew that somehow he would find a way to do it. She smiled when she imagined him back on his feet, defying all odds once again. It would be just like him, to completely disregard the rules and do things his way.

Astrid caught herself. What was she saying? She barely knew him. She had only started paying attention when he became inexplicably good at dragon training. The only notable thing he had ever done that she knew of was catching and training a Night Fury- every other one of his endeavours had ended in disaster (although, as Astrid later reflected, this 'notable thing' had been no different).

Catching and training dragons… What would life be like, when they got home? The dragons had no queen to serve anymore, so they wouldn't have to raid the village's livestock and people. Would Stoick allow Toothless to stay with Hiccup? Would Hiccup's sacrifice count for anything or would Stoick just refuse to let any dragons on the island at all? Surely an exception would be made for Toothless- he couldn't go anywhere without Hiccup. And flying was such an incredible experience…

The ship rocked violently and Astrid fell forward, knocking Hiccup's bed askew. As she fretfully readjusted the bed, Hiccup's head rolled and he moaned, very quietly.

Astrid froze and started, hardly daring to breathe in case she somehow shattered Hiccup's delicate frame. As she watched, his head twitched again and his eyebrows furrowed.

"H-Hiccup?" Astrid stammered, crawling closer to his head. What was she supposed to do? How would she tell him what had happened? Would he even remember-?

Hiccup's freckled face flinched for a moment, screwing up and scrunching in the middle. Air hesitantly whistled through his gritted, crooked teeth and his eyes were squeezed shut-

And all of a sudden he screamed. He bellowed and shrieked and thrashed about on the bed, writhing like an eel and squawking like a bird.

Astrid panicked. No-one had warned her about this! What was she supposed to do? It was his leg, it had to be his leg- the pain must have been unbearable. She looked around the small room wildly but no-one had been sent to help and the medicine woman had left no potions for Hiccup. What could she do?

Hiccup jack-knifed wildly off the bed, flopping about like a fish out of water. His face was contorted in agony, his fingers clawed and tearing at the bed sheets. _Come on, Astrid, think… _She was a Viking, she should have been able to handle this… Why was she so terrified? She had faced dragons without even flinching and only now was she afraid… Oh gods, oh gods, what was she supposed to do?

_Hold him down. _That was what she should do. Hold him down before he hurt himself.

Stumbling numbly over to his head, Astrid was surprised to see how violently her hands were shaking. She took a moment to steady herself- _deep breaths, Astrid, deep breaths- _before clamping her hands down on Hiccup's skinny shoulders. It would take at least two people to hold him down properly and his legs- leg and a half- were flailing around the most but Astrid didn't want to risk touching his stump, in case she made matters worse.

Hiccup's screams intensified and over the din Astrid heard a roar from above. Oh Odin. She had forgotten about Toothless. By the sounds of things they were still keeping him above for navigation. Why were they doing that? The other teens' dragons would have been able to navigate the ship back to Berk just as well as Toothless could. Couldn't they see how much emotional pain he was in? Didn't they know what it was like? Couldn't they imagine, just for a _single moment_, what Toothless must have been going through at that moment? Hiccup was the only human to have ever offered Toothless any kindness, the only human who would have taken the time and risked _everything _to make him a new tail and help him fly again. Toothless was only trying to protect Hiccup and the others had attacked him for trying to help his friend, trussing him up like a pig. And now he had failed to save his best friend from harm, and ever as his screams wafted up to him through the boards he could no absolutely nothing. His navigation was for Hiccup's benefit, certainly, but Astrid knew he hated not knowing what was happening. Didn't they realize how intelligent Toothless was? In those last hours at the nest, how could their minds have possibly failed to comprehend the deep bond between the boy and his dragon? Didn't they understand _anything _about loyalty at _all? _

How could they be so cruel? How could she have even spent her entire life modelling herself on such heartless monsters? How was it even possible that in the seven generations that had been living in Berk, Hiccup had been the only one with a kind enough heart and an open enough mind to find a non-violent resolution to the people's torment by seeing a different side to the poor, terrified, enslaved dragons? Before she could stop herself a tear slid down Astrid's face and splashed down on Hiccup's contorted, sweaty face and for the first time since she was two Astrid cried. She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, shoulders shaking with every agonized supressed jerk that rippled out from Hiccup's body. She couldn't even hear herself over the sound of Hiccup's screams.

It was so unfair. Astrid had spent her entire life idolizing the tough warriors she was surrounded by and looking down on Hiccup, the weak little wannabe bug who wasn't worth her spit, when really it should have always been the other way around. Sure, the Vikings were brave, but they were so brutal and uncaring and narrow-minded and war-oriented. Everyone had always called Hiccup a freak for being the complete opposite- for being _human_- but Astrid could see now that she had it all wrong. Hiccup was kind and open-minded and idealistic and so much braver than Astrid would have ever expected, and _that _was what Berk had always needed to stop the dragons, not brute force.

As Hiccup screamed and Astrid sobbed, she couldn't help but wonder why she felt this way. She had always been tough and efficient and emotionless and now here she was, crying over a boy she had barely known until a mere few days ago. It struck her just how little time had passed- only yesterday she had been screaming and holding on for dear life as Toothless took her for a spin. It had been only hours since Hiccup had let his previously unknown leadership talents shine and had rounded up all of the Viking teens to help save everyone from the Queen dragon, and it had been only minutes ago that Hiccup had lost his leg. It had all somehow melted together into one big tangle of events and emotions and the Astrid who had been so intent on killing every dragon seemed a whole world away now. Hiccup had changed her for the better, and if he died today she would never…

The thought made her cry harder. Hiccup's muscles (weak as they were) tensed and coiled beneath her hands and her tears mixed with the sweat on his face.

"Hiccup- Hiccup, please don't…" Astrid knew it was a lost cause- she might as well ask a tree to please pull up its roots and go plant itself somewhere else- but she found some sort of comfort in talking to him as though he could hear her.

"The pain will probably come and go in waves," a gruff voice said from behind her. Astrid jumped and looked over her shoulder. Stoick had returned and was crouching, half-swallowed in shadow, by the door. His elbows rested on his knees and his head was bowed. He held his helmet by the horn in his hand and Astrid could see his red head was shiny with sweat. "Once it's gone, he'll probably only have enough strength to sleep."

As if on cue, Hiccup's cries suddenly cut off and he fell limp, chest heaving as he gasped for air. Astrid slumped and fell back onto her bottom, but she was too busy staring at Stoick to notice. He was facing the possibility of his only son's death, facing the prospect of an empty home and a depressed dragon, and all he could do was run away from the problem or just talk about Hiccup like he was an object, not his son.

Moving stiffly, Astrid very carefully readjusted Hiccup's stump on the crates and resumed her post by his head. Brushing Hiccup's fringe away from his sweaty brow with trembling fingers, she wondered what could have possibly been going through the red-headed chief's mind…


	2. Stoick

**A/N: Hello! I don't actually know how many people are reading this because my e-mail is currently refusing to show any e-mails I get from the website but I just wanted to thank all of you for reading this anyway :D I'm not even kidding, I bought this movie four days ago and I've watched it almost every day since and it still reduces me to a howling wreck. Mostly the last scene. MORAL OF THE STORY IS, I'm trying to capture the emotions during the time when Hiccup had to get back to Berk and to do that effectively is, for me, an enormous challenge given how upset I usually get after watching the movie so please tell me if I'm doing my job well! Thanks again :)**

Stoick knew there was no escape. He knew that no matter how far he ran, the problem would never go away. He knew his son was hurt- very badly- and he knew that Hiccup would never be the same.

Worst of all, he knew that it was all his fault.

If he had just spared the briefest of moments to listen to Hiccup, this wouldn't have happened. If he hadn't been so harsh and forbidding and pressuring as Hiccup grew up, maybe they would have had a better relationship, and maybe Hiccup would have trusted him more and told him about his pet dragon from the start. If Stoick had stayed at home more often… His mania with the dragon nest had only started after his wife died. It was a dragon who had killed her, and as the years passed Stoick had convinced himself that it was less about personal revenge and more about what was best for the village but he always remembered the origins of his obsession. Staying at home had always reminded him… Going away on ships was all part of running away. Of hiding from the problem. Of pretending it didn't exist. He was the worst Viking to have ever lived. He was a _coward_. Not only that, but he was the worst father to have ever walked the face of the earth.

Hiccup's voice rang out, clear in his head: _Can you not hear me? This conversation seems very one-sided… For once in your life, would just _listen _to me? _The pain in the last statement cried out as clear as if Stoick was actually reliving that horrible moment in the house a few hours ago. Hiccup had always been right, he had always said it. Stoick had never once listened to him. At first it seemed with good reason: whenever he claimed to have seen a troll or captured a fairy it was always something stupid, it was never real. But Stoick realized that he was right now. When Hiccup was younger Stoick had humoured him good-naturedly, but it got to the stage when he was much too weak for a boy of his age. It was for the boy's benefit, he had told himself. He was only being tough on him to prepare him for the real world, to motivate him to fight the dragons as every Viking had to. Beneath it all, as Stoick now very clearly saw, was a constant knowledge that this boy, the talking fishbone, simply did not set a good image for the fearless chief. It had always been about Stoick's reputation. He had always just been making him into the boy Stoick wanted, completely disregarding who Hiccup was at heart.

What would his wife say now, if she could see him? She'd probably knock his head right off with that killer right hook of hers. Stoick could almost imagine her voice berating him as he strode through the mist, but it melted away to insignificance when he saw the amassed Vikings silently and respectfully hold their helmets to their hearts. Something inside of him had shut down then. The part of him that was in charge of logical thought and emotions evaporated and he numbly strode through the crowd, passing through them as if they were ghosts. He felt not their bodies sliding against his but their grim, pitiful eyes trained on him as he lumbered through them. His head held only enough room for one thought, one thought that chased itself like a dog chasing its tail around his head:

_My only son is dead and it's all my fault._

And then he had come close enough to see the Night Fury glaring up at the crowd with Hiccup safely curled up at the dragon's black belly. Stoick's heart soared with hope for a moment, but even from here he could see that Hiccup was unnaturally still. He forged on with relentless indifference, his goal clear in his head: he just wanted to _be _there. He wasn't there for his son when he had died, so he would be with him now. He would carry him all the way back to Berk if he had to. He would have carried him on his shoulders for the rest of his life, because Stoick had meant it when he told Hiccup that he was proud of him. This boy, the boy who had disappointed him and embarrassed him so deeply in the past was the bravest Viking Stoick had ever seen and a hero to be recognized through the ages.

Unbidden his last conversation with Hiccup bubbled to view in his mind's eye. Had he made amends then? Had Hiccup forgiven him when he said he was sorry? Hiccup had never been an angry soul… But then, what did Stoick know about what went on in his son's head? He didn't know the first thing about Hiccup. His last memory of his father could well have been a bad one. Which was why Stoick would take whatever came following the boy's death, if only to atone for the wrongs he had done to him while he had lived.

A cry from Gobber jerked him back to his senses. "You got him!" The burly blacksmith cried and Stoick stopped dead in his tracks. Could it… Could it be possible…? Suddenly Gobber paused and Stoick didn't know whether to be hopeful or not, whether or not he should even dare to believe that his son could have survived that horrific fire… Everyone had seen him fall, it wasn't possible… "Well. Most of him."

Stoick's senses came back in a rush and he shoved through the crowd with new purpose. Gobber's tone hadn't exactly been encouraging, but it was motivation enough for Stoick to find out for certain if his last piece of family was gone forever or not. As he drew to the front he saw Hofferson's daughter, Astrid, stagger back into the crowd, evidently taken aback by something. As he moved, Stoick scanned Hiccup's frail body critically for a sign of injury. His experienced eyes caught it almost immediately: it was easy to believe that one of his legs was hidden behind the other, but Stoick knew better.

That was it, then. His son was an amputee. Possibly the youngest Berk had ever seen.

"That's enough." Stoick heard his voice as if from a distance and was surprised by how firm it sounded. Someone had to pretend he had control of the situation and as chief that was his duty: in reality, though, he knew he was completely lost, caught in an endless moral dilemma. He broke free of the crowd and strode over to the boy and his dragon. His eyes met with the Night Fury and somehow it drained all of the energy from him: when he fell to his knees it was a senseless move, not one made to retrieve Hiccup from the dragon's protective cradle. Still desperately trying to convince the people that someone knew what he was doing, determined not to fall apart when his son needed him the most, Stoick disguised the move by sliding his arms underneath Hiccup's thin back and gently scooping him closer to his barrel chest. He could feel it now: a very weak pulse, pumping the blood from his ragged stump. Slow and feeble though it was, it was still a pulse, and a pulse meant hope. Stoick needed all the hope he could get right then.

He looked at the dragon's emotionless eyes for a few seconds, completely lost for words. He felt, at that moment, that he understood the Night Fury better than anyone else on the island at that moment: he was lost and hurt and confused and just wanted to know for sure that Hiccup would be OK, but he hid it because he was a dragon and he had to be strong. Stoick wanted to tell him he was sorry and that it was all his fault and that he would make sure Hiccup survived to see tomorrow even if he himself was killed in the process, but his tongue fumbled to find the words and he doubted that the dragon would understand him. Then again, he had appeared to understand Hiccup's orders… Stoick gave up trying to speak and tried to channel his thoughts through his eyes into the dragon's. He didn't think it worked, but decided that the beast had instead understood that Stoick's feelings were similar to his and laid back in the pebbles, nodding at Stoick on his way down as though giving him permission to take Hiccup and treat him.

"We have to get him back to Berk," Stoick said, more to himself than anyone. Still, his voice carried to the crowd as he strode off into the mist. Astrid had called him back, seen Hiccup's injury and faltered just as Stoick had. The only difference was, she was stronger. She knew what had to be done, and she had remained standing and reasoned that Hiccup be brought back via dragon. The same thought had crossed Stoick's mind, but he knew it was too risky. They had to go by ship, and Toothless had to guide them. After all, the dragon had no other way home. Plus, Stoick got the feeling he wouldn't let himself be separated from Hiccup for anything.

He walked back to the ship as if through a dream. He was vaguely aware of Toothless' presence at his heels and distantly conscious of the warm blood slicking his arm. He couldn't afford to focus on them, though: after losing his wife and waking up to what a horrible father he had been and now facing his only son's premature death, he didn't think he could handle it. For all the praise that showered him from the villagers about his performance as chief, he couldn't stay strong forever and certainly not when Hiccup faced death at Stoick's indirect hand. It shouldn't have been happening. It should have been him, he should have been mauled by that terrifying fire. He was big and strong and he was certain he would be able to recover. But Hiccup? He was small and weak and young. What would he even say…? No. It didn't bear thinking about. Stoick was glad, if not a little surprised, to feel Toothless' scaly muzzle steadying him when his knees buckled and he threatened to fall again. They exchanged another glance but said nothing, and Stoick continued towards the ship.

The stumble had awakened him. It was no use wallowing in pity and regret- if he wanted Hiccup to survive, he had to get to that ship, and he had to make it fly faster than the fastest dragon. As his pace quickened, he forced himself to consider no other options: Hiccup _would _survive. There were no more _if_'s. Stoick didn't have time for _if'_s. _When _Hiccup recovered, Stoick _would _tell him he was sorry and he _would _make everything right again. Everything would be OK.

It had to be.

Stoick stood at the head of the ship and waited for the bedraggled crew to drag themselves aboard, counting casualties and very carefully avoiding addressing Hiccup's injuries until absolutely necessary. He felt a nudge against his legs and looked down to see Toothless coil up behind him, protecting Hiccup loyally. As Stoick counted, he tried to figure out what he would do next. Hiccup would have to be tended to- hopefully the medicine woman brought along hadn't been killed- and someone would have to keep watch over him…

"Who's going to take care of Hiccup?" he called over the Vikings' heads.

"I will."

A firm, high voice. Stoick was lost for a moment before his gaze was directed down; there stood Astrid, standing in front of him like nothing was wrong.

"Astrid," he said, senses foggy with confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"I'll take care of Hiccup," she said again.

The warm blood on Stoick's arm served to remind him of the anxiety clawing at his heart. Yes. Right. Hiccup. He turned sharply on his heel and marched below decks; he heard a roar from the dragon and comforting murmurs from Astrid, but all sounds were soon lost as he disappeared below. The medicine woman was already there, standing grimly beside a bed neatly laid out with a stack of crates at one end. Stoick very gently set Hiccup down on the bed and stood back silently, watching as the medicine woman gently put his leg up on the top of the crate stack and began dressing it.

Stoick tried to fold his arms, but they slipped hopelessly- the blood on his arm was like oil. It jerked him back to painful reality and his shoulders slumped, his face fell hopelessly. How could he have done this? As he watched the medicine woman's tight, drawn face and Hiccup's pale skin glisten with sweat in the candlelight, he felt guilt tear his stomach to shreds. This… He couldn't even find the words. It was ridiculously unfair. Hiccup had been so good… What on earth had he ever done to invoke the wrath of the gods to the point where they would rob him of his leg? Stoick hadn't exactly had a lot of time to examine it, but he could see that Toothless' tail, and the key to his flight, were controlled by Hiccup's foot. If Toothless was going to fly like a real dragon, and if Hiccup was going to keep doing what he loved, he needed that foot. The foot that had been so quickly taken and would never be given back. A metal one could be fashioned, but it probably wouldn't work as well as a real ankle could.

The more he thought about it, the more it weighed down on his heart. Because of his actions, Stoick had robbed his son of a pastime he enjoyed, ruing an activity he was actually good at, destroyed a bond between boy and beast that must have taken weeks to build. How could he have been so _selfish_? Why couldn't he have just accepted Hiccup for the oddity he was? He had ruined everything. _Everything_.

The medicine woman told him what he already knew: the longer it took them to get back to Berk, the lower Hiccup's chances of survival became. Stoick said nothing as she left, lost in his head. A nearby creak jerked him back to earth; he turned and saw Astrid emerging into the candlelight. For a moment he couldn't think of why she would be there… Then he remembered. She was taking care of Hiccup. Which meant that he had to be on deck, forcing as much wind into the sails to make it slice through the waters. He tried to keep an optimistic frame of mind as he jogged back upstairs: he was a good sailor, and he had a good crew and a reliable source of navigation. They would be at Berk before he knew it, and Hiccup would be saved and everything would be alright again…

The atmosphere on deck was unbearably tense and the silence was so heavy Stoick was sure for a moment that he had somehow lost his hearing. Then he heard the creak of the wood and the cold water against the hull and knew it was not his hearing that had gone, but the hope of the crew. They knew that Hiccup, the boy they had taken such glee in ridiculing, had done a far nobler thing than any of them had done or ever would do and had saved their lives. They felt as guilty as Stoick- he could see it in their eyes. He couldn't let them see how hopelessly lost he felt inside, though, and strode to the front of the ship as if they didn't exist, stopping when he was behind Toothless. The dragon's shoulders were heavy and his head was low. With lazy grunts he would indicate the path they should take with his head, lamely guiding them through the rocks. The sudden degeneration of this great and terrible beast weighed down even heavier on Stoick's shoulders. He had done this. The cause for every hopeless soul aboard the ship could be traced back to him. The misery clung to him like the fog that surrounded them, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it off he could not rid himself of the sinking feeling.

He heard the metallic limping _thunk _that meant Gobber was drawing near, but he didn't react. The two men stood in silence for a while before Gobber finally spoke.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. If he felt awkward at all, he didn't show it. He rarely showed any emotion.

Stoick looked out across the misty oceans and looming rocks, sighing heavily. "Do you think he'll forgive me?" he asked quietly, so the rest of the crew wouldn't hear him. He and Gobber had known each other for years: he was one of the few Vikings in the tribe who could always accurately read Stoick's emotions, so he didn't bother trying to hide them. Besides, Gobber's advice was usually pretty accurate.

"'Course he will," Gobber said with that unshakeable, cheery confidence. "It's not in the boy's nature to be unforgiving."

Stoick turned to him, trying to keep his face and eyes as hard as possible. "Will you make him a leg?" he asked of the blacksmith.

Gobber nodded. "I'll have to redo the stirrup as well if he doesn't have an ankle anymore, and the dragon'll need a new tail too. I'll do it for Hiccup- he saved all of our lives out there."

Stoick clapped Gobber's strong shoulder and gripped it for a moment. "Thank you, Gobber."

The blacksmith shrugged like it was nothing. "Least I can do," he said, and that was it. With a final glance at Stoick's profile, Gobber limped away, leaving him to his thoughts.

With every corner turned, Stoick hoped Hell Hind's Gate would loom out of the mist and welcome them through to the clear, open ocean, but it never happened. It seemed to drag on forever, much longer than the trip to the dragon's nest had felt. He wondered what would happen once they returned. There was no reason to fight the dragons anymore, now that they wouldn't need to take their livestock. That left very little for the Vikings to occupy themselves with. Maybe Hiccup was right: maybe they needed more bread-making Vikings, or more home-repair Vikings. And the dragons would need a place to stay. They didn't seem to be vicious when unprovoked, and if they didn't threaten to steal all their food again they would remain unprovoked. Stoick tried to picture a Berk where Vikings and dragons existed in harmony: it didn't come easily. Still- there had to be some way he could get everyone to co-operate. It was a difficult concept to face but if Hiccup died today Stoick would do everything in his power to make sure his sacrifice was not in vain, and if that meant somehow transforming the way dragons and Vikings saw each other so they could live together then so be it. Forcing himself to face his son's mortality, Stoick tried to imagine how, exactly, that would work. Peaceful teamwork had always been Hiccup's scene- Stoick had been raised in a vicious world where dragons were killed on sight, no questions asked. Beasts were not privy to mercy and did not deserve peace- they had plagued the village so often Stoick had doubted they would understand the meaning of the term. Killing a dragon solo had always been more admirable, but Stoick knew he would have to face operating with dragons and Vikings alike if he was going to give Hiccup any legacy.

Not that he would _need _a legacy. He would be able to tell it all himself, because he _would _survive. _When _they got back to Berk, _when _Hiccup woke up, then they would discuss plans. Of course, there was no question that Toothless would stay with Hiccup: the dragon couldn't go anywhere without him and Stoick reckoned you'd have to be pretty slow to have missed the impressive bond established between boy and beast. Besides, he had taken enough from Hiccup: taking away his best friend would be torture.

The ship knocked into a rock; there was a collective gasp as the people were thrown of balance and stumbled to the side. Toothless seemed more alarmed than anyone and stumbled around, making the ship rock even more violently. Stoick lurched forward and tried to calm him: once more they met eyes. Stoick knew there was no love established between them- the only thing that was making Toothless co-operate was because he was worried about Hiccup. Still, it seemed to work, and Toothless calmed himself and resumed navigation. Stoick stood back and blew out his cheeks. Suddenly the urge to get back to Berk became overwhelming- he felt right then that he would do anything just to have the island in his sights, to know that Hiccup had a chance after all.

He was unpleasantly dragged back to reality with a scream. Not his scream- Hiccup's. He recognized it from what felt like hundreds of dragon attacks when Hiccup had foolishly ventured outside. This time, however, the dragon was nowhere to be seen: it had already done its work. Hiccup must have woken up. Whatever pain-numbing potions the medicine woman had given him weren't strong enough. Hiccup's world would have disintegrated into one of mindless pain and incoherent thought. Stoick had hoped it wouldn't come to this, he had been so hopeful Hiccup would remain in the world of unconsciousness until they returned to Berk, but he guessed that it was a bit much to hope for.

The crew had fallen silent once more, looking around in alarm. It only took one person pointing down for them to realize what had happened and who was screaming. Once more they fell silent with grim respect. The ship was so packed it was practically impossible to move: they stood, squashed together, uncertain where to look or how to act. It was difficult to block out the terrible sound- it seemed to surround them and the air felt thick with it.

A roar made Stoick turn: Toothless had had enough. He knew his master was in trouble and he wasn't going to wait around. If anything happened to Hiccup, he had to oversee it. He made a dash for the cabin, but once again Gobber stopped him. This time Toothless didn't growl: just howled with hopeless anger, begging for Gobber to let him go and make sure his friend was OK.

"Just get us out of these rocks," the blacksmith grunted- his most soothing tone. "Then you can go see him, alright?"

Toothless cast his eyes pleadingly at the crew, but they avoided meeting his gaze until, once more, he reluctantly followed Gobber, ears pricking and twitching at every scream, constantly looking over his shoulder.

Stoick wanted to let him go down there right now, if only to relieve his consciousness of the guilt that deepened with every helpless step Toothless took, but Gobber was right. There was no way they'd be able to negotiate these rocks on their own, and the longer they took the less likely it became that Hiccup would survive. Lost, Stoick resumed staring out into the mist, trying to avoid thinking altogether. He knew that Toothless was indirectly aiding Hiccup, and that even if he did let him go below decks he would be as helpless as everyone else, but the glance he had thrown over his shoulder haunted Stoick stubbornly. Not that it would matter- they _had _to be close now. Stoick could almost believe he smelled fresh sea air, not the damp fog that hung over this place. Hiccup and Toothless would be reunited soon… If you could call it that. Screaming in uncontrollable pain didn't strike Stoick as a choice way to reunite with your best friend.

A hand on his shoulder jerked him from his thoughts. He turned and saw Gobber, small eyes watching his face carefully. Stoick's brow furrowed questioningly; Gobber spoke softly.

"You should be with him," was all he said, but it brought Stoick to a hard decision. Did he stay up here and try to actively help his son get back to the island, where there was medicine and people skilled in medicine, or did he go below decks and sit by helplessly as Hiccup screamed and writhed, lost in a world of pain? He remembered that rush on the beach, when he had just felt the need to be with his son, and knew that Gobber was right- if Hiccup _did _die, the least Stoick could do was be there with him. The coward within flinched away: he didn't want to have to face that poor, flimsy body bucking with indescribable pain.

Stoick opened his mouth to say _something_, but Gobber seemed to read his thoughts. "I'll cover you up here. We'll be home before you know it."

_Home. _It seemed too good to be true, but too far away to be achievable. Stoick had to believe that it _was _possible, though. Otherwise everything was for nothing.

With a tight smile that he didn't really mean, Stoick marched below decks. He felt the pitiful eyes of the others follow him down, heard nothing but his heavy footsteps and Hiccup's tormented shrieks. One step, two step, three step, four: he was here, and the screaming was deafening. In terms of physical appearance, the room was the same as it had been when he had left, but he could see where herbs had been disturbed and, of course, the obvious: Astrid had moved to Hiccup's head and her hands were clamped down on his shoulders, supressing the worst of the bucking and writhing. There was nothing she could do, however, to stop the terrible screaming, and she knew it too- Stoick could see the now almost familiar glint of helplessness in her eyes. There was something else, too… Tears. She was crying. Stoick hadn't seen a Viking cry in a long time. He hadn't even known that Hiccup and Astrid were that close- when Hiccup had actually plucked up the guts to talk to another teen they usually said something rude in response or nothing at all. Then again, what did Stoick know about Hiccup and his personal life? He must have done something to have rounded them all up and fly in on those dragons before. Plus, he had won everyone's respect with his sudden and inexplicable improvement in dragon training… Everyone except Astrid. Stoick had seen how aggravated she was after Hiccup's victory over her, but it had been a day- almost two- since then. Astrid had been the first in the arena to save Hiccup when things went wrong with that Nightmare. And they had ridden in on the same dragon. Everyone had seen Toothless pluck her from the air, and she _had _volunteered to look after him just now… But what did he know. Maybe they were good friends, maybe they weren't. Maybe she was just a good person.

Stoick slid his massive bulk down the wall and let his head fall, let his elbows find support on his hairy knees. He slipped his helmet from his head, holding it by the horns and looking at his warped, tarnished reflection hopelessly. He had always believed that keeping the helmets was a way of keeping his wife close, but if she had always been so close she probably would have somehow imparted some kind of parental advice, especially seeing as the helmet was on his head all the time. It had done nothing, but Stoick wasn't giving up yet. If she still was watching over him, he was going to make her proud. He would make up for everything in Hiccup's life he had ruined. The idea of possible forgiveness seemed to be the only thing keeping him up.

"Hiccup... Hiccup, please don't…" Astrid's teary voice recaptured his attention: he looked up hopefully, but nothing had changed. She was still crying, he was still screaming.

Stoick spoke before he could stop himself. "The pain will probably come and go in waves," he said, and was surprised by how dead his voice sounded. He felt Astrid's eyes on him, but couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. Enough guilt pressed down upon him as it was. "Once it's gone, he'll probably only have energy enough to sleep."

As if to prove his point, Hiccup suddenly fell silent, collapsing limply on the bed. Stoick heard him gasp down ragged breaths, heard Astrid fall away as limply as Hiccup had. He could still feel her eyes boring into his skull, and he could guess what she was thinking: that he was a coward for objectifying Hiccup instead of addressing him as a human being. She was absolutely right, and Stoick didn't see the point in pretending otherwise. Let the whole world know that Stoick the Vast was a downright, good-for-nothing _coward_. The worst Viking to have lived.

Silence descended, broken only by Hiccup's desperate struggle for air and Astrid's occasional sniffles. Everyone was lost in their own world, but Stoick didn't want to imagine where Hiccup was right now. He was still breathing, the only sound that Stoick made actively sure that reached him in his near stupor because the moment it cut out was the moment Stoick fell apart. He could only hope that whatever world of unconsciousness he dwelled in was a happy one…

An eternity seemed to pass before Hiccup woke up again. It startled Stoick- he hadn't expected him to come back around so soon. Stony faced, mouth a grim slash of determination, Astrid resumed her post at his shoulders. He could see by the way her lips pressed together that she was fighting off more tears. He straightened, unsure of what to do with himself. He didn't want to risk hurting Hiccup's leg more by wandering near it, but he felt as though with every second that passed Astrid was silently condemning him further for being a coward and for letting himself become so helpless. He tried to think of something he could do-

There was a strangled roar from above, a few muted shrieks followed by a series of thumps and crashed until a wild-eyed Toothless had appeared, big eyes darting around until he found Hiccup. He almost knocked Stoick over as he pounced, standing next to Astrid and desperately sniffing Hiccup's sweaty face. Once more Stoick's heart sagged: the poor beast hadn't the slightest idea what was happening, or why. They were more alike than anyone might have guessed: neither of them had any clue as to the future of the most important person in their lives, both of them needed to be tough and hide the complete confusion within and both felt an overwhelming sense of guilt at having failed to protect the bravest boy Berk had ever seen. Toothless' appearance signalled one good thing, however- they must have been clear of Hell Hind's Gate and well on their way to Berk now.

With a confused moan, Toothless began running circles around Hiccup's bed, roaring piteously as he did. More tears sprang to Astrid's eyes and fell freely as she tried to calm the distraught dragon. "Please- please, Toothless, calm down, he's OK, it's all OK, shh, shh, please don't, you'll tip the ship…"

But he wouldn't listen. Watching his demented circles, Stoick could scarcely begin to wonder what was going through the beast's head at that moment…


	3. Toothless

**A/N: And now, the chapter I have been both anticipating and dreading: Toothless' chapter. Let me know how this goes, yeah? The review button is there for a reason.**

**Also, because I have not quite recovered from my latest obsession, I am considering posting a collection of Hiccup/Astrid drabbles. Mostly because I've already thought up above five scenarios in the time it takes for me to go from closing my eyes to sleeping. I'm a relatively hardcore shipper. Let me know what you think?**

**I'm sorry about how long this is, but in my eyes this is the most important relationship in the entire movie, not to mention my favourite. I've tried to shorten as much as I can, but please bear with me!**

**ANYWAY. Enjoy~!**

Hiccup's last words to Toothless weren't exactly encouraging. _No… No! _They both knew, the moment the makeshift tail fin burnt away to nothing but metal rods, that the chances of them both getting out unscathed were pretty low. Still, Hiccup had a duty to serve to his people and a father to prove himself to, and Toothless didn't really have a choice. Not that he would have opted out if he _did _have the choice. He would have followed this boy to the ends of the earth and over the edge. If Hiccup went down, they both went down.

The pain of impact on the unforgiving mass of tail nearly knocked Toothless out, but the heat of the flames around him and the lack of weight on his back forced him to keep fighting unconsciousness. Hiccup hadn't been quite so strong: hardly surprising, given his build. As if in slow motion, Toothless saw him fall in blissful ignorance towards oblivion, and it didn't matter if he had no control over his flight anymore. He had to try.

He dived after him, his poor, burnt wreck of a master, and swooped upon him like an angel of death. He hugged his frail, lightly burnt body tight against his scaly belly and felt a tingle against his stomach that meant something was on fire, even if he couldn't feel the heat from the apparently small flame. Though Toothless had never taken active part in a raid, he had seen that humans being on fire was never a particularly good thing. He wrapped his wings tight around Hiccup's body for safety: this way, if Hiccup began burning to a crisp Toothless would at least be able to feel _something_, maybe even smother the flames. The downside of this was that there was nothing to slow them down on their descent and they dropped. The flames seared Toothless' eyeballs: he screwed them shut and rolled onto his back, bending his spine slightly so he was sure Hiccup would get maximum protection against their impact. Cracking his eyes open, Toothless looked over his shoulder but still saw no sign of the pebbly beach that meant landing. Turning his head back around, he saw his incomplete tail flapping helplessly over his head.

His last conscious thought was a fervent hope that Hiccup would survive to make him a new tail. Then the beach loomed from nowhere and smashed explosively into Toothless' back.

Toothless did not immediately open his eyes when he came to. His body was a throbbing mass of bruises: in his half-conscious state he assumed he had just executed a spectacularly bad crash landing, and that he was lying next to the lake in the cove, and Hiccup would poke his head around the corner any minute and laugh at him. Toothless would probably fire a friendly blast at his feet to remind him who had the firepower in their relationship-

_Fire. _That was when he remembered. Unwillingly, he opened his eyes and was greeted by the sight of the gathering crowd of Vikings watching him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. He couldn't feel the tingle of fire against his belly anymore, which meant that he had either been successful in quenching whatever flames had burned on Hiccup's body or the fire had taken over him entirely and when he opened his wings there would be nothing in his arms but ashes.

He didn't like to think about that.

He stared down the crowd fearlessly. He didn't want to let them see how scared he was. He didn't yet know how he felt about these people: they had, after all, trussed him up and bound him in chains and pushed Hiccup to sacrificing himself for them. If Hiccup liked them enough to save them, maybe Toothless should too. But he knew about the way they used to treat him: Hiccup told him about it, sometimes. While Hiccup wasn't around to make the decision for him, Toothless decided hostility would keep them out of his face and so it was a hostile glare he eyed them with before, after what he deemed to be a lengthy dramatic pause, he opened his wings to reveal what lay within.

He didn't want them to think that he didn't know himself what had happened to Hiccup, and until he knew what to think of them he didn't want to show too much affection either lest they decide to pet him. He watched their reactions instead of looking down, but they betrayed little. The crowd parted and Hiccup's blonde friend, Astrid, stumbled forward. Her eyes scanned Toothless' belly- the exact area where Hiccup should be lying- and for a moment Toothless dared to hope. There was obviously _something _down there for her to look at! Maybe Hiccup was still unconscious. Unconscious, but safe. Alive! Toothless was about to execute a knowing glance down to confirm what he prayed was right, but then Astrid's eyes widened and she stumbled back as if someone had punched her in the gut. Beneath his mask of indifference, he panicked- it hadn't worked, he had failed, Hiccup was dead, he had failed, he had _failed-_

Another Viking with a hanging blonde moustache and a wooden leg appeared beside Astrid. Toothless couldn't remember his name, but he remembered the dismembered limbs. Hiccup had told him about this man: his boss, or something like that. "You got him!" the Boss cried in celebration, and Toothless felt Hope rear its cautious head once more in his heart. Then the Boss' face fell and Hope regretted bothering to wake up. "Well. Most of him."

Most of him? What was _that _supposed to mean? Toothless' mind restlessly explored the possibilities. Maybe Hiccup's head had been on fire and now there was nothing there. Maybe the fire had cut him clean in half. Toothless had seen what that monster dragon's fire could do, even to supposedly flame-proof dragons. Oh Odin. (Toothless didn't really know what an Odin was, but he had heard Hiccup say it plenty of times before and figured that it might be fitting for his current situation.)What had happened? All manner of nasty things could have happened to Hiccup, and what was Toothless going to do about it? Nothing, that was what, because there was nothing he could do. No, no, no…

No. Calm down. He had to be calm. Astrid had obviously seen _something _there, and there had to be _something _down there to cause her such alarm. Maybe it was Hiccup's burns. They would have to be pretty awful. That was no small inferno he had been engulfed in before, there had to be some scars. And he _had _been on fire at some point… Plus, the Boss had very clearly said 'you got him'. Which meant that there was something recognizable left of Hiccup down there. So maybe he shouldn't despair just yet.

One of the other smaller Vikings very solemnly removed his helmet from his head and held it to his chest, head bowed and eyes shut. Toothless wasn't exactly an expert in human body language or mannerisms but he took this to be a mark of grim respect. Astrid stared as the Vikings around her did the same. Toothless struggled to put the pieces together: judging from their faces and silence it must have been a mark of respect for _something_, something they wouldn't be doing unless something very important had happened.

Something like Hiccup surviving that terrifying inferno?

Satisfied that the Vikings' gazes were adverted, at least for the moment, Toothless flashed his gaze down very quickly to where Hiccup would be lying. Part of him didn't want to, but most of him was dying to.

What he saw made him want to leap up and blast a plume of triumphant fire into the air. Hiccup was _alive_! Unconscious, yes, and burnt, but even in the brief glance Toothless had spared for him he could see he was breathing. _Breathing. _Taking in air and expelling it out again. Alive.

Which begged the question: why did these people all look so grim?

Hiccup was alive. Wasn't that a good thing? Maybe these people hated Hiccup so much they were lamenting the fact that he _wasn't _dead. Toothless felt rage bubble inside him. Didn't they _realize _that Hiccup had just sacrificed himself for them? These- these worthless tubs of lard, these ungrateful brutish worms? Up until recently, loyalty had been a very foreign notion to Toothless, so maybe he didn't quite understand the fundamentals of it, but what on earth did Hiccup owe these wretched people that could have pushed him so far as to risk his life for theirs?

Goodness, these humans were complicated.

"That's enough." The crowd parted again, this time to allow the big bushy man that was Hiccup's father to appear. At the sound of his voice, the Vikings roused themselves from their ominous stupor and watched him, waiting for orders. Toothless was as undecided about Hiccup's father as he was about the rest of the village: he knew that Hiccup felt slightly threatened by his father, he knew that he had a nasty habit of killing any dragon he set his sights on and he very clearly remembered being held down and tied up like a common animal by order of Stoick. However, he also remembered who it was who had broken him out of his bonds and let him return to Hiccup, and even though he had pretended he wasn't listening Toothless had heard every word of Stoick's apology to Hiccup. And Hiccup appeared to have forgiven him. Toothless couldn't help but feel uneasy in his commanding presence and instead treated him as a colleague of sorts, deciding that for the moment they were only bound by a mutual love for Hiccup.

Stoick fell to his knees in front of Toothless. The villagers didn't look overly alarmed by this, which meant that either the chief collapsed on a regular basis or they didn't blame him for breaking down. Head tipped slightly to one side, Toothless looked at his face curiously. He could see the faintest echoes of turmoil set deep within his dark eyes, but a stubborn steel covered it all up. Maybe he was trying to be strong for his son, for his reputation. As his beefy arms reached out to Hiccup, Toothless understood- the collapse had been an involuntary move, but he couldn't seem weak. He had to act strong, even if he was being torn to shreds inside. Like Toothless.

With Hiccup now held to his father's barrel chest, Toothless could now drink in the sight of his living body freely. He was, as he had guessed, burnt, but not majorly so. His freckles stood out against his stark white face and the limp way with which he hung in his father's arms made him seem so much smaller and hopeless. There was something else, though… At first Toothless couldn't place it, but eventually he figured it out. Humans had two legs: he knew that much from watching from afar during raids and now from his recent, albeit unexpected, interaction with Hiccup. Those who didn't had wooden stand-ins, like the Boss. With a horrible sinking sensation in his stomach, Toothless realized Hiccup was headed for the same fate, because were two fuzzy boots should have been dangling there was now only one. Instead of a left boot, there was now only a steady trickle of blood, spilling out over Stoick's arm and splashing quietly down on the pebbles.

Toothless didn't react, but inside he felt that a small part of him had died. Hiccup was alive, sure, but who knew how long that would last? The pallor of Hiccup's skin was horrifically alarming and the blood that flowed didn't exactly look like it was coming from a minor cut. Those horrible moments in which Toothless had seen Hiccup fall helplessly into the flames replayed themselves before his eyes and he realized with a sickening blow to his stomach that if there was anyone to blame for Hiccup's mutilation it was _him_. He had failed to get to him in time, and so had failed to protect the only living thing that had ever mattered to him. If he had just tried a little harder to avoid that thrice-damned tail, or been quicker to regain his bearings, maybe he would have gotten to Hiccup in time. Maybe he would still be here, unconscious and burnt, but with all four limbs intact. It should have been Toothless, he could have survived with half a leg missing. He could still fly, provided Hiccup was around to control his tail. Besides, he was the fireproof one of the two of them- he should have been hurt, he would have been able to handle it better. Hiccup was too… Too young, too fragile, too _good _to have anything as horrible as this happen to him. It shouldn't have been Hiccup.

Stoick's hand on his neck jerked him out of his inner turmoils and into the man's small eyes. Toothless couldn't speak, but even if he could he knew he would have been speechless anyway. As he looked into Stoick's eyes, he saw a reflection of himself, and it wasn't in the literal way. He saw the guilt and fear and agony that he felt warring endlessly with each other in the chief's eyes, and for a moment wondered if maybe they weren't that different after all. His mouth hung slightly open, like he was trying to think of something to say. Toothless knew the word that he wanted- _sorry_- be he also knew that five letters wouldn't feel sufficient for this particular carnage. Toothless knew that this wouldn't have happened if he hadn't burst into the arena to save Hiccup, but he also knew that Stoick would have done the same if only to save his clumsy, weird son. Toothless knew _how _this had happened, but he felt that he would never understand _why_.

But there was nothing he could do about it, so he just nodded and emitted a faint moan that he hoped communicated something. Apparently he had, though he wasn't quite sure what as Stoick stood straight with Hiccup in his arms and turned away. For a moment Toothless' every instinct urged him to lunge at Stoick, knock him down and take Hiccup back, but he barely resisted when Stoick said 'We have to get him back to the ships'. This was good, Toothless reflected, as he hauled his sorry mass of bruises to his feet: they were going to do something. They were going to get Hiccup back home and take care of him. And then Toothless would be able to see into his eyes again and know they were staring right back with a goofy smile to match.

Toothless was surprised when Astrid fell after Stoick. Even from where he was he heard her voice falter, and knew that the unbreakable girl finally needed someone to lean on. Ignoring the screams of his protesting muscles, Toothless forced himself forward until he was just behind Astrid. As he drew close, he could hear her asking for Hiccup to be taken back via dragon: had he been able to, Toothless would have supported her argument, but once Stoick delivered his he knew it was a lost cause. Seeing her posture sag at this latest rejection, Toothless nuzzled her head lightly with his, letting her know he was there. He felt her cheeks lift in a weak smile as he glared down Stoick, as much for himself as for Hiccup and Astrid because despite knowing that there was plenty of blame to go around, it had been Stoick who had bound Toothless in shackles and brushed off his son and if it hadn't been for _that_, Toothless might still be sitting in the cove, waiting for Hiccup to appear with a fish and his weird saddle clothes.

Stoick met his gaze unflinchingly, but he didn't fool Toothless. He recognized the posture and the face and the eyes because he was experiencing the same thing- this hopeless loss for words, this utter confusion, this suffocating mist that made reality seem so surreal even when it was shoved brusquely in your face. Oh yes. Toothless was very familiar with that.

"We need your navigation to get back to Berk," he said, voice little more than a hoarse whisper. The hopelessness had seeped into his voice, now, too, and rang clear in Toothless' ears. "This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for me and I know I treated you- both of you- unfairly but please do this. For Hiccup."

Toothless knew the 'for Hiccup' part was added in to sway him if he wasn't already convinced, but it was completely unnecessary. Hearing Stoick admit to blame seemed to lessen how much of it was on his shoulders in Toothless' eyes, but he had made up his mind long before any of this. Rain, hail or shine, he was going with Hiccup, wherever that may be.

Still, he pretended to hesitate. Part of him was reluctant to go: he felt almost as if the moment he left Astrid's side she would collapse and just lie there on the pebbles forever. She was beginning to look as pale as Hiccup and her eyes were darting back and forth constantly, as lost as Toothless was. She was probably used to being in charge of a situation and having something to do: not being able to do anything about Hiccup's current predicament probably didn't sit with her very well. Plus, it looked like the first time she had really stared possible loss in the face.

But even as Toothless thought this, Stoick was marching off again, and he had no choice but to follow. He had only moved a few paces before he turned back to Astrid desperately. At first, he had wanted to smile at her, give her some sort of a boost, but his resolve quickly crumbled away in the shadow of what he was about to face. He just wanted to know _why_. Why the forces of nature would converge so that Hiccup had no choice but to fight off that monstrous dragon, why the fire would take away what little control Toothless had left over his own flight, why that tail would knock Hiccup away from him and plummeting towards his death with a single, indifferent swipe, why Toothless couldn't have been injured in Hiccup's place. Why, even as he dreamed of being back in the cove waiting for Hiccup to appear between those two boulders with a fish in one hand and his saddle in the other, and that big bright smile that always lit up even his most bedraggled face when he saw Toothless, all he saw was a bulky figure that did not resemble Hiccup one bit disappearing into swirling mist, leaving not footprints in the soft mud Toothless had grown accustomed to but splatters of blood on the unforgiving black pebbles that lined the beach.

All Astrid gave him was a weak smile. She didn't follow him or help him understand what was happening. She just tried to smile, barely succeeded, and watched him. He could see the desperation in her eyes as clearly as he could see it in Stoick's, and she did little to hide it, but for a moment he wished she would at least try to pull herself together and help someone who was in as much pain as she was, maybe even more. Then he turned away, giving up hope on any help from that end, and followed the crowd of Vikings moving back towards the ships.

Toothless' cage was lost overboard, and it wouldn't have been used anyway, but he still felt a certain sense of trepidation about stepping on board again. Maybe it was the people staring and whispering as he moved by them. Maybe it was the pressing sensation that the moment he set foot on board he would be accepting that there was something wrong with Hiccup, something very bad, and if they didn't work fast enough or efficiently enough that very bad thing would make him very dead. Part of him assumed it was the latter option, and though he didn't show it it took a great deal of strength for him to take that final step and board the ship. He shoved through the crowd- he didn't have any time for manners- with his eyes set firmly on where Hiccup was held above the crowd's heads in Stoick's arms. Sliding in behind Stoick's thick legs, he assigned himself guard duty and growled threateningly at anyone who so much as _breathed _too close to Hiccup. He was in a fragile enough state as it was: Toothless could smell the foul stench on these people from a mile away, and he didn't want that contaminating Hiccup when he was as close to death as he was.

_Death_… The notion almost made Toothless collapse. He had never had anything in this life that was worth his attention, let alone love. He had never felt loyalty before, and he had certainly never expected to become so devoted to a human, especially one as weak as Hiccup. But it was all of his weird attributes that drew Toothless to him: his sometimes foolish kindness, his occasional naiveté, his strange encouragements when they were flying, his charity, his sarcasm, his weakness. It was all of those things that made him so deliciously _different _from the brutish warriors that made up the rest of his clan, and _that _was why Toothless had decided to trust him.

Now… He was beginning to wonder if it was a mistake. Facing the loss of Hiccup seemed, right then, to be more than he could bear. All of these new emotions- love and loyalty and a burning desire to see Hiccup laugh again, or even just feel his weight on his back- warred inside of him, constantly screaming for acknowledgement but every time he paid attention to one all he got was a sharp, painful pang to his heart, like he was being torn apart over and over again. He was breaking to pieces, and the only person who could fix it was Hiccup. Toothless pushed his face close to the freckly one of Hiccup's, nuzzled it softly and blinked down into his closed eyes confusedly, waiting for him to wake up and tell him it was all going to be OK and that he would come early to the cove tomorrow morning so they could get extra flying time in before Hiccup had to go to training.

It didn't happen.

He just kept bleeding, and no-one did anything about it. Stoick's arm wasn't absorbing or stopping any of the flow. Toothless felt anger surge through him: Hiccup had gone through so much for these people and now it seemed they were more than willing to let him bleed to death. Why didn't they just put the wooden replacement on already? Wasn't that how it went? They just slapped the new leg on, let the victim get some rest and then he popped up again, good as new, if not better? Why were they waiting so long? The sooner they got it done, the sooner Hiccup would be on his feet- foot- again. Toothless was about to utter a roar of protest when he caught sight of Astrid.

She had seemingly materialized from nowhere, eyes darting between Stoick, Hiccup and Toothless restlessly. Toothless' head cocked to one side slightly and he blinked, but other than that he showed no outward reaction. Inwardly, he dared to hope a little. Astrid was as helpless as anyone else in terms of Hiccup's fate, but maybe if she was with him Toothless would be able to stay strong enough to get Hiccup home. Besides, Astrid was the only person he trusted alone with Hiccup.

"Who's going to take care of Hiccup?" he heard Stoick say. He opened his mouth to make a voluntary noise, but Astrid stepped forward and beat him to it.

"I will," she said, and Toothless tried to feel angry at her even though he knew that she was better for the job than he. Similar of stature and size, with hands and a voice that could form comforting words. He was glad it was Astrid who would watch over his best friend in his darkest hours.

Stoick looked lost. He focused on Astrid and stared blankly for a few moments. "Astrid," he murmured, like he recognized the name but not what it meant. "What are you doing here?"

"I'll take care of Hiccup," she repeated patiently. Toothless could see in her eyes the fear he knew he and Stoick shared, but in spite of that she kept up appearances and stayed strong. He regretted what he thought on the beach, and his feelings changed to ones of respect.

It seemed to make sense to Stoick, who suddenly turned on his heel and marched off down a small set of stairs. The moment Hiccup disappeared into the uncertainty of darkness was the moment Toothless lost control: he instinctively roared and lunged after him, yearning to follow and take Hiccup from Stoick's arms and protect him from invisible demons that threatened to take both life and leg. He felt a dull thud on his neck and whirled to see the Boss' metal hook fastened to Toothless' neck, holding him back. Toothless snarled; his face remained fearless.

He felt another light pressure on his scales, and turned again to see Astrid. Her face was soft and afraid now, and she looked so much older. Her eyebrows were angled up pleadingly and her eyes were scarred with fear and pity. Toothless looked at her questioningly, the helplessness of his situation overwhelming him.

"You need to stay up here to navigate us home," she said, voice surprisingly soft and soothing despite the dire situation. "I'll keep an eye on Hiccup, I'll let you know if…" Toothless knew what she was going to say, but he was still gratified when she said "If anything goes wrong". He trusted her, and so turned away and let the Boss lead him to the head of the ship. He did what he was told, but not carefully. A grunt and a toss of the head was enough as instinct navigated him through the treacherous rocks. He remembered being in similar conditions not so long ago and suddenly hated himself for giving in so easily to instinct. If he had just resisted, he could have lead them in a circle or just away from the island, and they would figure that he had no use and let him go. Even as he thought of it he dismissed it with a snort. If he had no use, he was as good as dead. The only good dragon was a dead dragon. And while he might have spared Hiccup one physical injury, he knew that his death would leave Hiccup a lifetime of incurable emotional wounds, and that guilt would never leave Toothless, not even in death.

As instinct lead the way, Toothless let his mind wander back to the day he had met Hiccup. He remembered the hatred and the shock when he realized that this scrawny runt of a boy was the one who had brought him down and robbed him of flight. He remembered wondering what he had done so wrong that would require a dragon heart to fix. He remembered looking the runt in the eye for the first time. He remembered everything he had wanted to say with his eyes: doubt that the runt would _actually _have to strength to do this deed and just a hint of pleading. He knew there was no chance of flying again with the condition his tail was in, and that as long as he was down he was as good as dead, but there was a certain indignity about being killed by a kid. He was scared, but he couldn't show it. He watched the boy, watched and watched, and eventually gave up. The knife was small, the boy was constantly hesitating, so doubtless his death would be long and slow and painful. He closed his eyes for the last time and rolled away with a resigned moan and waited… For nothing. Nothing had happened. He wanted to know what was happening, but he didn't want to come across as curious and over eager. He became so wrapped up in his image that he didn't even notice when the boy fell to his knees beside him and began cutting the ropes free. He had stared in disbelief, already formulating plans of how he would kill him and somehow preserve him to he could use him to survive over the long, hard weeks to come, but then something happened that made him stop. The boy cast a frantic, worried glance over his shoulder, a glance that conveyed fear. Fear that someone would come over that hill at any moment and see him. It made him pause. He was just as terrified of his own people as Toothless was. Why, he didn't know or care, but he had freed him and they were bonded, however weakly, by a mutual fear. So Toothless let him go with a roar that threatened a quick death if the boy was stupid enough to blab about his experience.

Which was why he couldn't help being surprised when he came back. Toothless knew he could reach the rock he was on and kill him there and then, seeing as he was so insistent about coming back, but once again he stopped. He remembered the fear, and saw how quickly he scampered away, and was harassed by doubt until he drifted into hungry sleep. The next time he had come had been a curious experience for Toothless. He was mystified (and slightly annoyed) by the fact he had returned yet _again _and shocked by how easily he had tossed his knife away. That gesture propelled him forward, increased his trust a little more. The fish was good, and the regurgitation was a gesture of kindness. Or so he thought. He should have been offended by the boy's reluctance to eat it, but he was just too eager to make sure that he liked this gift to really care. He had extended a hand, and Toothless darted away because he was scared that his trust would be misused. He slept to escape the strange, unfamiliar emotions and problems that plagued him, and when he woke again more arrived when he saw the boys' drawing, clearly of him. He was proud of his maze, defensive when the boy threatened to ruin it and unreasonably pleased when he used it. For the second time, a hand was outstretched, and for the first time Toothless realized that he now wholeheartedly trusted the boy. It was a historic moment: human and dragon meeting in harmony and peace. Toothless would remember that.

After that, Hiccup started talking to him. Named him. At first, Toothless didn't like being restricted to _being _something after being free for so long, but the boy was so earnest he had to give in. That, and he had food. Even though it only seemed like he was eating, he was listening as Hiccup told him about his father, his village, his awkward life. The people that teased him. He held on to every word, and now it all seemed to play out in front of him like it was just yesterday. He got lost in the sunny, grassy cove, and for a moment the air he breathed was warm and clean and was peaceful, not reeking of blood and grief.

His head swayed, a gesture someone took for a direction. The boat knocked against a rock and the big wooden bucket rocked: Toothless was jerked out of his peaceful daydreams and staggered wildly as he was dragged back to the present, where Hiccup was bleeding to death below because despite everything he had done for him Toothless had failed to protect him. He couldn't find his balance, he was sick and dizzy and lost and confused-

He felt a steadying hand on his shoulder, and turned. There was Stoick, eyebrows knitted in unexpected concern. Once again, Toothless caught a glimpse of that mutual fear and love for Hiccup, that knowledge that there was no love between them. A fervent hope that Hiccup would be safe. Toothless slowly straightened, regaining his balance. Surprisingly, he felt himself become calm again. Despite the fact that there was no prominent resemblance between Hiccup and Stoick, he had seen a piece of the boy he had grown to love in those eyes, amongst the turmoil and conflict. And once again he felt the lulling arms of trust.

Stoick moved away, and Toothless caught himself. He couldn't afford to let himself trust anyone else. Because trust inevitably lead to love, and if he lost Hiccup today all he would never bring himself to love again. Until he knew what would happen for sure, he had to be passive. No-one could know…

The scream, muffled as it was, tore through the air like daggers. Toothless had only heard Hiccup cry out a handful of times- in fear or frustration or elation- but never like this. He would recognize the owner of the voice anywhere, but it took him a moment to grasp the concept that Hiccup was in pain, that he was creating that fearful sound that he heard now, that he had to be there with him. His head swung around wildly for a moment, and he forced himself to be strong and hold out. If he lost control now, they could ruin the boat in some rocks and then Hiccup would never have a hope in hell. He widened his eyes and his neck muscles tightened as he tried to block out the world and focus on the foggy horizon, but the screams tore through whatever daydreams he tried to lose himself in because all of them involved Hiccup. Happy, healthy Hiccup.

The screams intensified, accompanied by soft thumps from below. That was enough. He uttered a roar of mixed fear and worry and reared up on his back legs, pushing through the thick crowd. It didn't matter if there was nothing he could do- he had to be there. He remembered the pain that had racked his bones when he had made his crash landing. It wasn't quite as intense as this, but it wasn't exactly a party. Hiccup hadn't abandoned him then. Toothless couldn't abandon him now.

Once again, he felt the metal pressure of the Boss' hook on his shoulder and uttered another roar, finally showing his true colours. Self-pity and fear and worry and sorrow and pleading. All he wanted was to be down there with Hiccup. Couldn't they understand that? Of course not. They knew nothing of loyalty. Toothless had decided that even he had a more extensive knowledge of loyalty than they did.

"Just get us out of these rocks," the Boss grunted unlovingly. "Then you can go see him, alright?"

Toothless lifted his eyes and scanned the faces of the crew pleadingly, but they refused to meet his eyes. He felt a twinge of disgust at the people, to the point where he could no longer bear to look at them. He lowered his head once more and followed the Boss. He felt every muscle twinge and flinch with every scream, and could barely contain his desire to tear away and follow Hiccup. The most he did was look over his shoulder, eyes searching pleadingly for any sign that the scream wasn't coming from Hiccup and that he was hauling himself up those stairs now.

His knees trembled as he reached the head of the ship. He could barely keep himself up. This was too much. The thought of a Hiccup-free tomorrow… He couldn't let anyone fly him again. He wouldn't. He didn't care if that made him useless and dead. He had no purpose anyway. He almost wished that he were dead now, so he wouldn't have to endure this. He heard muted discussion nearby, but the words didn't penetrate his conscious. He had drifted off. Instinct had taken over his body again and he didn't have to bother with thought as he gestured with his head as to which way to go. He felt his emotions throw themselves together in a tight ball in his chest, begging to be released in a roar he didn't have the energy to conjure up. The fog became more and more suffocating until it had taken over his entire world and he saw nothing but a blank, white future. Time didn't seem to exist. Nothing existed, except his worthless heartbeat pounding in his ears. He felt a dull pang in his heart when he realized how hollow it sounded without the imagined sound of Hiccup's heartbeat. He didn't fully process what that might mean, just that a little imaginary piece of him had died.

The next round of screaming was accompanied by a blast of fresh night air in the face. Toothless blinked and looked around wildly. He could see the shadows of the fog and rocks nowhere. How long had they been free? Why had no-one told him? All those thoughts were washed away when he realized Hiccup was screaming again, and Toothless still wasn't by his side.

He found his voice, and released everything in a roar. He leapt up and crashed down on the deck again, sending people scattering with screams of fear. He didn't even notice that he barely fitted through the doorway as he barrelled down the stairs into a dimly lit room where Astrid kneeled at Hiccup's head, pinning him down at the shoulders with her lips pressed together. He brushed past Stoick, barely taking note of him as he bounded past and stood at Astrid's side, sniffing Hiccup's contorted face concernedly. Why was this happening? What was he doing? Didn't he realize how much pain he was putting Toothless through by just uttering such a sound from his lips? Those freckles that had become so familiar over the last few weeks looked like they were about to pop off his cheeks, he was so tense. He looked at Astrid's clenched hands and felt a pang as he realized that while they could do nothing about Hiccup having lost his leg she was more active than he was. She was preventing him from further harm, while Toothless stood there and wondered what was happening and why. It was killing him.

Toothless uttered a helpless moan and began bouncing around the small room in circles, desperate to do something. If he was human, he was sure he would be crying now. He would be screaming, like Hiccup. He couldn't bear this. Nothing could describe his emotional pain. The terror, the fear, the confusion, the sorrow.

Toothless barely heard Astrid's teary pleads, knocking over anything and everything that got in his way. He wanted to scream as loud as he could, but his throat was so strangled he couldn't bring forth any sound. He dimly heard Stoick utter a low moan, and more painstakingly heard Astrid's sobs increase in volume until she could barely control herself. Toothless stopped and looked at her with big, pained eyes. He slowly moved over to her, pushing his head close to hers. Her hands twitched, like she was going to move, but she barely resisted. Her shoulders shook with sobs, and even Toothless could see that her hands were trembling so badly they were hardly any use against Hiccup's tortured bucking anyway. He closed his eyes and tried to escape, but it did nothing. He tipped his head back and released as much sound as he could muster. The sound dragged on and filled the cabin, but didn't hide the despairing sounds of the other tortured souls trapped in the stuffy room.

Hiccup screamed. Astrid sobbed. Stoick moaned. Toothless howled. The sounds carried up to the deck, where the crew could only listen awkwardly until once more a helmet was pulled from a head, held to a heart and kept there in respect and sincerity as the sound of low, murmuring prayer left the lips of the Vikings and floated to the stars.


End file.
